


The Mysterious Purple Archer

by kuro



Series: Plushieverse [9]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Plushies, Presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 11:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20114125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro/pseuds/kuro
Summary: Tony tries to figure out what plushie Clint should receive.





	The Mysterious Purple Archer

“What did you want to be when you were a child?” Tony asks as he digs around in the newest version of the Iron Man armour.

He feels more than he sees Clint look up and stare at him, mostly because the sound of him digging through one of the many heaps of scrap lying around in the workshop suddenly ceases.

“I can’t really remember,” Clint says after several moments of thoughtful silence. “I guess I was too busy with other things to think about the future.”

“Hm.” Tony can see why Clint would say that, although he can’t really say he can speak from experience. For him, the future cannot come soon enough. It could never arrive soon enough, even as a child. The present is usually just full of limitations. He winches a little as he tries not to think of his own father as a limitation, and shakes the unbidden thought off.

He whirls the screwdriver in his hand once before setting it away, looking up to Clint.

“You didn’t set out to become a master archer?” he asks, teasing.

Clint laughs out lout.

“Sure, because that’s obviously where the money lies.”

He pauses. Then he adds, “I guess getting all that sweet cash is more important than lofty dreams when your belly is chronically empty.”

There is little worse than an empty belly. This time, Tony can speak from experience. The taste of hot sand is hard to forget.

“Speaking of empty bellies,” he says aloud. “I could really go for a donut or two. How about you?”

Clint raises his eyebrow at him.

“Dude, I could eat a ten-course meal and _still_ find the room for a donut. Lead the way, rich friend.”

* * *

Being with Clint is really simple. He might not be a perfect fit for any type of society, but he manages to find his own space next to anyone. Tony wonders if it’s a skill that came to him naturally, or if it was something that he had to acquire at some point. Tony has tried to figure it out in the past, but the jury is still out.

Whichever it might be, Clint is easy to be around. Which makes it sometimes hard to remember that he _is_ around, because unlike people like Thor or Steve, his presence is entirely unobtrusive.

That tendency also makes him hard to figure out.

Tony stares at his sketchbook and feels thoroughly uninspired. He’s not sure what Clint would want, and he doesn’t want this to be purely an exercise in obligation. That would be meaningless.

So he continues staring at the notebook and continues feeling uninspired.

But then he thinks of the talk he had with Clint the other day. And something about it doesn’t feel quite right. He doesn’t think Clint lied to him, but then… it also doesn’t feel like Clint actually told him the truth.

One small thing.

One small thing keeps nagging him.

And Clint is hard to read, but Clint is also a complicated person, and Clint, well Clint was also a child, once upon a time.

Tony himself was never particularly good at being a child, but there are things about children that he understands.

He grins to himself. Then he sets the pen to paper.

* * *

“What.” Clint’s voice comes out perfectly flat. “Is. That.”

Tony looks up from his tablet, where he had just been messaging with Bruce a few floors down, trying to entice him to some unsafe lab practice, and Bruce steadfastly refusing. 

“What? It’s the mysterious Purple Archer, obviously.”

“That outfit is _ridiculous_.”

Tony sighs loudly.

“He’s a superhero, Clint. It’s _supposed_ to be ridiculous.”

“I wasn’t aware superheroes were supposed to be ridiculous.”

“Don’t be silly, Clint, of course they are. Why would you ever want a superhero to not be ridiculous? You _have_ to be ridiculous to think you can save humanity from itself.”

Clint shoots him a look that clearly spells that the only thing he thinks is ridiculous is clearly Tony himself.

“It’s yours, by the way,” Tony adds casually. Clint probably already guessed, but still, it’s important to be clear here.

Clint’s eyes wander back to the plushie. He looks at the enormous purple mask with the two spiky tips, the equally aggressive purple costume with its crossing strips and the initial ‘H’ on its chest, the little black compound bow with different types of arrow, each of them colour-coded and neatly put away in a quiver. It’s completely over the top and it’s very obviously done so.

“_Really._” Clint says.

“Really,” Tony replies. He abandons his tablet and an unwilling Bruce, and reaches out for the plushie instead. He carefully reaches for one of the little side pockets attached to the costume and opens it. “Look, it even has some snacks, in case of emergency.”

“_REALLY._” Clint repeats.

Then he is silent for a moment, and stares at the bear in front of him.

He laughs out loud.

“Honestly, Tony, I have no idea what to do with you,” he confesses as his laughter winds down. “I will never figure out how your brain works.”

But before Tony can reply, he reaches out for the plushie and lifts it up.

“Thanks, I guess.”

The next moment, he is gone.

Looks after him and sighs deeply, but it is a sigh of relief. Another mission that has ended successfully, he dares to assume.

“Superheroes aren’t ridiculous, my ass,” he mumbles under his breath. “And that from _Clint_, of all things. I should have gotten him a mirror instead.”

“Noted, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. interjects drily.

Tony glares at the ceiling, because REALLY now. His creations somehow live to defy him.

But then, he would be lying if he said he hated that.


End file.
